Lead Me On

Author's Note: Just a short Remy and Rogue ficlet that popped out of nowhere.

EDIT 2/19/14: Song title, artist and lyrics removed from Author's Note and chapter text to comply with content guidelines. May also change chapter title to remove any reference that said chapter was inspired or influenced by outside work.

Remy rose from his chair, thanking the maitre d' as the man brought back the change from the hundred that Remy had used to pay the man for their dinner. Sweeping a few bills off the small tray, he tucked them in the waiter's hand, to the accompaniment of the man's murmured, "Merci, monsieur." Remy nodded graciously, then swept Rogue's jacket from the chair behind her as she rose. "Mademoiselle," he said, holding her jacket for her to slip her arms into.

Rogue smiled at him as she stood up. "You can be so charmin' sometimes, Remy," she said, slipping her arms into the jacket sleeves. "Thank you."

He slid an arm possessively behind her back as they navigated around the other restaurant tables. Other patrons were staring at him, at his tall, well-built, toned form encased in tailored pants and shirt, and at Rogue's curvaceous, sexy from in the daringly-cut deep scarlet dress. He could almost feel their stares, their envy; and he smiled proudly as they swept by those tables, occupied by fat, dumpy restaurant goers.

Once out in the parking lot, he guided her toward his car; he'd convinced Warren to let him borrow his black Mercedes for this evening. He'd been planning this for a while; a movie, a chick flick he'd heard Ororo and Jean talking about as having been good but that Rogue hadn't seen yet; dinner at Café Parisienne, and then a slow drive home, maybe with a stop along a quiet road somewhere to watch the stars, maybe do a little heavy petting…

He opened her car door for her with a flourish. "Your chariot, ma cherie," he said with a smile and an elegant bow. She smile at him, and got in. He got into the driver's side, and they drove off.

Halfway down the last leg of road leading to the mansion, he turned off onto a smaller road that would lead to a quiet spot by the lake. "Remy? Why are we stoppin'?" Rogue asked, but he didn't stop until he had reached the lakeside and they could see the view. There was a crescent moon hanging low over the horizon; and this far away from the artificial lighting of the city, the stars seemed clearer, brighter, and very close.

He got out and headed to open Rogue's door, only to find her already getting out. "Oh, my," she said quietly. "Remy, it's beautiful. Ah've nevah been heah this late at night." Remy grinned, went to the trunk of the car, took out the blanket he'd hidden there earlier, and spread it out on the grass. Rogue took that as an unspoken invitation and sat down; Remy kicked off his shoes and sat, reached for her pantyhose-clad legs and hefted them onto his lap. His fingers started a slow, sensual massage of her feet, and she groaned. "Ah, Remy, yah got no idea how good that feels…" He rubbed her feet for a long time, then, smiling to himself and holding his breath in hope, he ran his hands over her arches, ankles, and legs, stopping at her calves to work on the muscles there. When she made no protest, he inched his way upwards, feeling for the strong, long muscles of her thighs. She turned over, giving up her view of the starscape above them in favor of feeling those strong, gentle hands working the tension out of muscles that rarely felt this sort of contact.

So far, so good. Remy smiled, then carefully placed his hands on her jacket-covered shoulders, rubbing at the tight muscle knots there. Drifting lower, he massaged her back on both sides of her spine, and then lower…

"Remy, stop."

He hoped she didn't mean it, and gave her a chance to let him continue by not stopping his slow exploration of the muscles of her posterior.

"Remy, Ah said 'stop'!" Rogue rolled over with a thump, frowning angrily. "Don't ya h understand what 'stop' means?"

"Remy was hoping you would change your mind, chere," he said, his voice husky with need and lust and seductive vibes.

"Remy, Ah swear, yah gotta be the stubbornest man alive!" Rogue sprang up from the blanket furiously, turning to face him, her smoky green eyes crakling with temper. "Ah've told yah ovah an' ovah, we can't do this!"

"We were doin' jus' fine a moment ago, ma cherie," he said, desperately wanting to get back tot hat relaxed, easy mood they'd had before her temper broke it. "If you let Remy try it, maybe we can—"

"Don't! Ah don't wanna hear it!" rogue shook her head in a violent denial. "Ah can't do that, Remy, Ah can't risk your life for mah own selfish pleasure! Stop tryin', yah fool, 'fore yah get yourself killed an' make me mourn yah!" She leaped into the air, not giving him a chance to respond, and flew off toward the mansion.

Remy sat back down on the blanket, sighing. "Mon Dieu, it was all goin' so well," he sighed, staring into the star-studded blackness above him. "When are we gonna get past this teasin' an' move on?"

He needed a cigarette. He strode to the car, yanked open the door with unnecessary force, not noticing how the door handle glowed slightly pinkish-red before he let go of it. He turned on the car to get the lights working so he could grab his pack out of the glove box, then let it run as he leaned against it and lit the cigarette with a flick of his fingers. "Maybe Remy be better off wit'out her."

He smoked furiously for a few minutes, gradually relaxing in the quiet and peace of the night. He leaned over to reach in and turned on the ignition, and froze when he heard the song on the radio.

He sighed and slid into the driver's seat, closing his eyes. The purpose of him chasing Rogue wasn't seduction. It wasn't the teasing game. It was because he truly genuinely cared for and loved the fiery southern belle and wanted to make her happy. Wanted to be with her. She was what mattered, not the pursuit, not the denial. Not the game. And if she was important to him, he should be persistent.

He was too experienced with women not to know when a woman was interested. Rogue was definitely interested, but she was letting her fear of her mutant powers keep them apart, because she didn't want to hurt him. Why couldn't she understand that he didn't care if he got hurt, he knew all the risks he was taking and was willing to face them because she would be there for him?

Remy crushed out his cigarette. A fool with a broken heart, yes, but he would still have Rogue, or the memory of being with her, to cherish. He'd been attracted to her since he first saw her; there was a sort of chemistry between them that was undeniably there. She felt it too, but she'd never given into it, or acknowledged that it was there. Remy might have slaked his sexual desires with other women, flirted with others, but his heart had always remained with her. And it would always stay there. He'd never be able to leave her now.

So, he had to continue, because there was nothing else he could do. He had to keep pursuing her, loving her, chasing her, until she would finally see that she wouldn't shake him,. Then maybe she would let him into her life, and her heart. He picked up the blanket, shook the stray bits of twig and grass out of it, and stowed it back in the trunk before getting behind the wheel. Time to return the car to Warren…and time to find Rogue, apologize for not stopping when she wanted him to, and get back the quietly romantic mood of the evening…if it wasn't too late.

He drove off, to the sound of that song playing in his head.